Herzen, Coeurs and AlsaceLorraine
by Crumpled Piece Of Paper
Summary: After France steals her first kiss, Germany ends up stealing something much more important in revenge. France/Fem!Germany


The year is relatively unimportant - just know that this is an old time, a time before iPods or the internet - before phones, cars and even electricity. This is an age which survives by it's own, unique rules and lives by them very strictly. The cruel lash of it's discipline is something little Germany is quite familiar with. It's only been a hundred or so years since she was officially united, made into a complete nation by her brother with her own boss and people to protect, to obey and to love. It was a stress and a joy unlike any she'd ever felt, and Louise - Germany, felt she would not have been able to survive had Gilbert - Prussia, not been there for her.

But now that she was settled, he was nowhere to be found. Normally a quiet, unremarkable girl, Louise now felt the beast of her constant irritation show it's fangs. Her brother could make her so angry at times.

The little nation stared out the window with a slightly worried, pinched expression as the wind tore through the garden trees outside. Fresh green leaves were ripped from young wooden bodies by torrent after torrent of rain-filled gusts. Germany held the curtains tightly in her small hands and waited. Her brother was never gone too long. Louise stared up at the black sky. Even if he was out with his friends, it was almost midnight _bei Gott_. Gilbert simply wouldn't leave her past midnight, the witching hour. He knew - he knew she would get scared.

The large house was empty and achingly lonely without the loud, obnoxious presence of her older brother, and it was making Germany more uncomfortable by the minute. The shadows were even more ominous without Gilbert to pop out of them and try to startle her. Who knows what was in there when he wasn't? Feeling as vulnerable as she did now, she didn't even want to think about what was waiting for her in the dark. She simply wouldn't risk falling asleep without Prussia around.

Instead of her room, which was spacious but terribly dark, Louise had opted to curl up in the open window seat and had pulled the heavy curtains closed around her and one of the many dogs her family owned at the time - a small schnauzer named Moritz. She cradled his warm little body close to her chest and continued to wait. Germany leaned against the glass, feeling it rattle and watched the rain streak down it, doubt reflecting in her ice blue eyes. Outside everything was eerily illuminated, considering the time of night. She supposed the low-hanging summer clouds reflected much of the city's light. Berlin was like a distant star, and she could just barely make out the glow of it's heart against the _schwartzen _treeline.

Louise started when Moritz suddenly barked and wriggled free of her death grip. He tumbled gracelessly out of the window seat and scuttled towards the front door. Heart beating quickly, Germany pressed her face as close to the glass as she could in attempts to see around the curves of her house to the front walkway, but had little success. She heard the door open and hastened to free herself from the curtains and her own long nightgown, becoming entangled and tripping a few times in the process, but making it there nonetheless.

Bare feet slapping quickly across the hard wood floors, the young nation paused for only a second at the archway that led into the foyer before leaping down and running to her brother. Louise pushed her way in between the welcoming dogs, wrapped her arms around Gilbert's waist and dug her fingers into his wet coat. Trying her very hardest not to cry, she breathed in the smells of the rain and the smoke and her brother's cologne with each quiet sob.

"Oh, _meine leibling_...Don't cry." Gilbert crooned a little too loudly, unsteadily lowering himself to his knees to look his young charge in the eyes, eyes which wept anyway without her permission. He wiped away her tears roughly and Louise scowled at him.

"You're late! You were supposed to be home at ten! You promised..." She berated him in Old German, eying the two familiar boys behind Prussia taking off their coats and shoes, knowing that only Francis would potentially be able to understand her in her native tongue. France and Prussia's war had occurred a while ago and it had co-mingled their cultures a bit around the edges - language as well. Antonio had never cared much for the Germanic languages as a whole and thus hadn't had a reason or desire to learn German specifically. He watched the two Germanic nations converse with a sleepy expression.

"I know, I know...we lost track of time." Prussia excused lamely, unable to look her in the eye as he said it.

Germany, obviously, wasn't won over. "That is no excuse! Just look at the weather outside. What if something had happened? Nobody would be outside to help you, and no one would hear you calling out with the wind howling like it is."

Gilbert opened his mouth to apologize again, but was interrupted by a bout of giggles from behind. Louise peered over her brother's shoulder at the two teenage boys with an irritated look.

"_Su señorita _knows how to put you in your place, Gil!" The brunette teased, fake-cracking a whip. Louise burned and pulled at her nightgown sleeve self-consciously. How crass. Antonio. She'd never been fond of him - too lazy and un-clever. The other teen, Francis, looked a little bit more sympathetic.

"Antonio! Be nice,_ la p'tite _is obviously scared out of her wits!" The blond wobbled toward her and knelt next to Gilbert. Louise backed away instinctively and prayed that her tears had miraculously disappeared. Germany found herself suddenly very worried about what she must look like now, in her sleeping clothes, her face probably red and puffy, unwashed. Her face reddened even more when France's glossy navy blue eyes met her's - though his were half-lidded with intoxication.

France took her small hand in his own and asked her with the utmost sincerity, "Do you want us to read you a bedtime story and tuck you in - to give you a goodnight kiss?" As he said the last part he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

Spain burst out laughing and Prussia followed suit after seeing the horrified look on his little sister's face.

Lousie ripped her hand away, furious. When the Frenchman started to get up, laughing simply because Gilbert and Antonio were, she grabbed two handfuls of his damp golden hair and pulled him back down to her level. "I am twelve, not two! And considering the state of mind you're in I may as well be older than all of you combined! If you want to talk to me you'll do so as a gentleman to a lady! Remember that next time, you, _du_ _berauschten Narr!_"

With that Louise released him and turned around, her pale nightgown twirling along with her as she stormed up the staircase to her room, the sounds of uproarious laughter from Gilbert and Antonio trailing behind her. Her fears of the dark were forgotten with her anger, and she only stopped herself from slamming the door long enough to let Moritz and another dog inside her room.

Back in the entryway, France was still on his knees, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

Prussia grabbed his friend's shoulder sympathetically. "Don't let her get to you - she's just touchy."

Antonio ambled out of the foyer, tripping up the step that led into the dining room and making his way towards the kitchen. "I'm starving, what do you have to eat around here that isn't processed meat or beer?"

Prussia frowned, "Tsk, how stereotypical of you! I have excellent food."

France grinned and dragged himself to his feet, using Prussia to help himself up. "_Mais, Prusse_, we all know that the very best cuisine is French!" Patting Gilbert on the back, Francis followed Spain into the kitchen. "Antonio, _cher_, let me make you something! I simply love to cook!"

Gilbert tossed his jacket on the ground and went after his friends, worried for the safety of his kitchen. "Didn't you just eat at the bar, Antonio? I fear for your waistline at this rate, _freund_..."

...

In the end, Francis ended up making very little, and the three simply snacked relentlessly in the kitchen until Antonio scooped up a bowl of fruit and meandered into a living space, setting the bowl precariously on the arm of the sofa before tossing himself upon it. France rolled over the back of the obviously expensive piece of furniture and landed on top of the Spaniard roughly, uncaring of the objecting Spanish grunts from below. Prussia came up behind both of them and shoved the back of the sofa, tilting it forward and knocking them both off, the bowl also falling to the floor as Gilbert became the sole occupant of the sofa.

"You beast!" Francis protested, now ironically underneath Spain, who took a bite out of an apple he'd found on the floor.

"It's my house, _Frosch_!"

"_Estoy cansado_." Antonio announced, letting the apple roll out of his hand and under the sofa. Ignoring Gilbert's protests he crawled back up onto the sofa, nestling himself safely on one end and re-locating Prussia to the opposite side with none-too-gentle nudging of his feet, which the light-skinned teen only grudgingly allowed.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" Francis complained from the floor, feeling quite abandoned.

"I don't recall inviting either of you to stay the night..." Prussia mumbled, already half-asleep.

Spain simply snored.

France sighed. "Fine, I'll take your bed then, Gilbert. Have fun sleeping on _la sofa_. Don't have too much fun without me." France somehow managed to get to his feet without the room spinning (pointedly ignoring Gilbert's "Whatever, just don't sleep naked like you usually do...or I will kill you."). And with that, he set off up the staircase, idly thinking about what _wonderful_ friends he had.

...

When Lousie woke up the next morning, she wasn't in the greatest of moods. Outside her window the sky was still as bleak and gray as ever, which was strange. Usually storms blew through during the night. Sighing, she gently removed the dachshund from where she'd been laying on her stomach and drug herself out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom.

After undressing, bathing and brushing her teeth and hair, Louise stood before her wardrobe, looking over her choices carefully. It was overflowing with pretty girls' dresses she absolutely adored - just so long as she wasn't the one wearing them. Germany pulled out the skirt of a black, white and red dress and rubbed her fingers over the fabric longingly, then looked down at herself. While she'd started to notice her chest coming in, she had a painfully boyish figure - broad shoulders and narrow hips that made Louise dread puberty. She'd be the most physically awkward, androgynous creature alive.

Germany ran a hand through her nearly shoulder-length blonde hair. At least she had that going for her.

She settled for a plainish, squarish dress in the hope that it's angular shape would downplay her's. It was a pretty green with a black belt and white lace along the neck and cuffs, tied with black ribbon.

"If you ask me, I think the blue one would have suited you better."

Louise jumped terribly at the voice and whirled around, her heart beating wildly. There was only one person who could manage a hangover with such a languid tone of voice.

France lounged carelessly on his stomach at the end of her bed, looking a bit more worse for wear than she remembered from yesterday. Nevertheless, that was besides the point.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" She growled, clutching the dress tightly to her. Clad only in her slip and underwear, she felt horribly exposed.

Francis smiled awkwardly. "Well, to tell the truth, I spent the night here."

Louise almost believed him, her face burning, though her expression remained calm and determinedly focused elsewhere. "You're a filthy liar. I would have known if you slithered into my bed."

"_Non_, I actually spent the night on the floor, just over there..." He gestured vaguely at the ground.

Germany stared daggers at the guilty looking nation. "I think you should go now."

Francis raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"I'm extremely close to declaring war on you, France and if you care anything for your land or your people, you're going to want to get very far away from me."

Francis raised his arms defeatedly and rolled off the bed, but instead of going towards the door, he took a few long strides towards her, drawing uncomfortably near. Ignoring the frozen, hating look Louise was sending him, France smiled and reached to touch her face. She slapped his hand away with enough force to make him frown. "You know, _cherie_, you really need to learn to loosen up a little."

"No thanks, I think you're quite loose enough for the both of us."

"You have to let others in - if you keep shutting people out you'll just end up a lonely old hag."

"I never said I'd shut everybody out - I'm making an exception just for you. And I'm not going to be a hag, I'm twelve!"

"I wasn't nearly so prude at twelve. And words can hurt, you know."

"Like I said before you're "loose" enough for the both of us. Now leave, _bitte_."

Francis stared at her a moment with an expression she couldn't read, then swooped in suddenly and tugged her face towards his until they both collided in a painful kiss.

There was a moment in time just then where Louise found herself unable to comprehend anything, much less what was happening. It only took a few seconds for everything to click back together and when it did she growled ferociously, hell bent on tearing Francis' face off, but France had already turned tail and darted out the door. Louise dropped her dress and bounded across the room, but when she reached the door she found she had no will to follow him. She shut it quietly instead.

Germany clasped a hand over her mouth, more red than ever - tears springing to her eyes as she sunk to the floor. Her mouth hurt from where his teeth had bruised her and she couldn't shake the ghost of his lips against hers. That bastard, how dare he steal that from her...her first kiss. It would be the last thing he'd ever get from her, she knew that already. Nobody crossed her twice without regretting it, she may not be the largest nation - but she was quickly becoming one of the most powerful. And something inside her burned for revenge.

There was a new feeling of off-balance within her. Louise hated it. She needed to steal something equally as important back...to make things equal.

...

It took her a bit longer than usual to finish her morning routine (apparently stuffing powerful emotions to the back of your mind was more labor-intensive than you'd think) but when she was finally satisfied with her appearance, Louise opened the door and headed downstairs. When she got near the kitchen, she froze, hearing noises and smelling the scent of food cooking. Immediately confused, she walked slowly ahead. Gilbert was never up this early - even when he wasn't hungover. And he certainly never made breakfast - at least not something that smelled so...delicious. More ever, Germany was certain Prussia never sang French folk songs while he cooked.

And so she wasn't very surprised when she opened the swinging door to see Francis happily busying himself at the stove. Antonio was slouched over the island counter, his face dangerously close to a bowl of coffee, but Prussia was missing. He was acting like he usually did, she noted with slight irritation. However, she noticed a red mark near his mouth that made her a bit happier. She hoped it would turn into an ugly bruise and hurt him terribly.

"Why are you still here?" Louise questioned, crossing her arms and not moving.

Francis stopped humming for a moment and looked over at her with a curious expression. Then he smiled, "_Bonjour_ _à__ toi, aussi, madamoiselle!_" He chirped before giving the crêpe he was cooking another flip.

Germany's frowned deepened and she moved over to the island, pulling herself up onto a stool next to Spain. "You know I didn't understand a word of what you just said. Speak _Deutsch_, I know you can."

"Maybe you should speak _Fran__ç__ais_?" Francis quipped, sending her an infuriating grin as he moved around the kitchen like he owned it. It was unnerving, though, the way he seemed to know where everything was. How many times had he been in their kitchen, anyway?

Germany shook her head, not wanting to get into it. Instead, she changed the topic. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have your own house?"

Francis frowned and looked absolutely tragic, "Aw, are you trying to get rid of me, _cherie_? I'm very hurt." However, as he prodded Spain's head with the butt of his spatula, he looked anything but. "There, you wanted sweets for breakfast so damn badly, they're ready for you."

Antonio eyed the crêpes for a moment before looking at Francis. "Where are the tomatoes?"

Francis blanched, pulling a face. "That's disgusting! What's wrong with you? You don't put tomatoes in dessert crêpes."

Antonio smiled lazily, "No, _señor_, you can put tomatoes on anything. Besides, they don't look very sweet to me."

France pulled the plate away from the Spaniard protectively before pushing it toward Germany, who'd been looking over the newspaper, trying very hard not to give France even a lick of further attention. "_Voilà, cherie, pour tu_."

Louise looked at the crêpes, perfectly cooked to a golden brown, just waiting to be topped with strawberries, powdered sugar, bananas and cream. They looked amazing, and her stomach gurgled greedily. However, she wasn't comfortable with accepting gifts, especially not from catty, greedy, first-kiss-stealing Frenchman who liked to act like they were kings of the entire world

"_Nein, bitte_." She muttered, blushing.

Francis looked honestly hurt for a moment and Louise felt a sharp pang of guilt, but immediately buried it - along with her face - in the newspaper.

"You know, _Alamania_." She heard Spain say. "With your hair grown out like that, you and Francis look a lot alike."

Louise let the newspaper slip from her fingers and slide to the floor. He did not just say what she thought he'd said. Sure enough, the teenage France was looking closely at her. His face broke into a wide grin. "You're right!" He exclaimed. Germany simply did not want to know why he sounded so happy about this. Francis plucked a strawberry off the crepes and popped it into his mouth. "You might as well be _ma petite sœur_!"

Louise stared silently at him for a moment, perfectly torn between getting up and leaving and getting up to beat the crap out of France.

Gilbert chose just then to walk in. "What's all the noise?" He blinked down at the abandoned plate of crêpes. "Oh, Francis, you shouldn't have..." he crooned. Prussia helped himself to three of the crêpes, reaching over Louise to get to them. She grabbed his arm in a crushing grip as it passed in front of her. Gilbert looked down at the young nation. "Hmm?"

"I want a haircut." She said firmly.

Antonio started to laugh, but was cut off after Francis jabbed a strawberry into his mouth, the blond nation frowning.

As Spain choked in the background, Gilbert eyed Louise thoughtfully, chewing his stolen meal. "I thought you were happy that your hair was as long as it is? It took forever to grow out..."

Louise flushed and switched to an older German tongue. "Spain said I look like France's little sister."

Gilbert looked to France, who looked grumpy ("She acts like it's such a bad thing!" "It is, you tomato-hating, _monstruo fresa_!") and back to Louise. "There is quite the resemblance, isn't there?"

Louise's face crumpled and she let her head fall forward in utter defeat."Please. Just cut it off." She held out a lock of hair for him, as if expecting Gilbert to shear it off right then and there.

"Are you sure? It may take a long time to grow out again..."

"That's fine. I'll grow it out when he cuts his off."

Gilbert smiled and France huffed. "At least I won't have to worry about ever French braiding your hair again." Gilbert joked.

Louise wasn't amused. "Oh, you're so funny."

Prussia shrugged. "Antonio thinks so."

France rolled his eyes, "Antonio thinks everything is funny in the morning." The blonde country poked Spain in the forehead to demonstrate as Antonio giggled.

Gilbert rolled his eyes and took another bite. "What are you going to do today, _leibling_?" He asked Germany, offering her a bite.

Louise accepted the offer absent-mindedly, and wasn't surprised in the least to find that it was delicious beyond all belief, though she was careful not to let any of this show on her face, especially since Francis was watching her. "I wanted to call Belgium, actually...she'd help me do my hair."

France tsk'd, "It's not help, it's murder." Prussia rolled his eyes and continued eating, stopping every so often to bat away Antonio's hand, as he was still hungry, even if there were no tomatoes.

Louise looked up at Francis. "I don't know why you care so much, but stop."

France shrugged, "_Je suis la pays d'amour, c'est parfaitement naturel pour me préoccuper aux beauté, aussi, non?_"

Germany sighed. "Shut up, _bitte_."

* * *

**Translations/Notes**

Oh jeez, I have a lot of these...

_bei Gott_ - Gr. - By God  
_schwartze_ - Gr. - black  
_meine leibling_ - Gr. - My darling/favorite  
_Su señorita_ - Sp. - Your little woman  
_la p'tite_ - Fr. - (roughly) The little one  
_du_ _berauschten Narr!_ - Gr. - You drunken fool!  
_Mais, Prusse_ - Fr. - But, Prussia  
_cher - _Fr. - Masculine 'dear'_  
__Frosch - _Gr. - Frog_  
__Estoy cansado _- Sp. - I'm tired_  
cherie - _Fr. - Feminine 'dear'_  
bitte -_Gr. - please_  
__Bonjour_ _à__ toi, aussi, madamoiselle! _- Fr. - Good morning to you, as well, miss!_  
Deutsch - _Gr. - German_  
__Fran__ç__ais_ - Fr. - French  
_señor_ - Sp. - Sir  
_Voilà, cherie, pour tu._ - Fr. - Here, for you.  
_Alamania - _Sp. - Germany_  
Nein_ - Gr. - No  
_monstruo fresa_ - Sp. - Strawberry freak (translated literally. I have no idea if this is actually what Spanophones call strawberry freaks, but you get the idea.)  
_Je suis la pays d'amour, c'est parfaitement naturel pour me préoccuper aux beauté, aussi, non?_ - Fr. - I am the country of love, it's perfectly natural for me to be concerned with beauty as well, no?

**********Author's Notes: **Yo! I'm not dead! XD Nope, I've started another fic - hopefully one I'll finish as I'm rather inspired by it. Well, mostly I'm Hetalia-spired. Just some things I wanted to mention here, one being that this story won't pick up for another few chapters. I plan on taking this one really slow so I can get into the feelings/minds of all these new characters I get to play with (first Hetalia fic, did I mention?). Never fear, though! There will be action! You'll also notice that I use quite a bit of foreign words/expressions/etc. There's no real significance to it, other than that even if all these countries were speaking English, they'd probably still throw in some of this stuff. I try to use it naturally, and only things that I personally, know. I check all this stuff with the dictionaries - but I make sure I understand it first. As such, you'll notice there's more French than any other languages and almost no Spanish. I speak French and a bit of German, but Spanish...I have to look Spanish up. =_=' My French brain helps to make it correct, though...hopefully? Let me know about any mistakes! I don't want to be confusing~

Enjoy! I think you'll like what I have planned.


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